


I'll Be Your Santa Tonight

by arysa13



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brother's Best Friend, Christmas, Coercion, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, F/M, Smut, Sneaking Around, now get ready for, you've heard of best friends brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21963424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Bellamy is invited to spend Christmas with the Griffin-Millers, and he shows his gratitude by seducing his best friend's sixteen year-old sister.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 388
Collections: Merry Glebmas 2k19





	I'll Be Your Santa Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Catja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catja/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Cat! I had a lot more planned for this but I wanted to try and keep it under 10k. I hope you like it!

For the last half an hour, Bellamy has only been half paying attention to the video game he’s supposed to be playing with Miller. He keeps glancing over at his friend’s step-sister, Clarke, legs curled up under her on the armchair as she watches the screen. She seems perfectly content to just watch, and never asks the boys if she can have a turn. She’s probably used to her older brother hogging the console.

Normally Bellamy would spend his winter break, and Christmas, with his sister, but this year she’s decided to flee the country for the holidays, with her boyfriend, leaving Bellamy without plans. He’d been slightly affronted when Octavia told him she wouldn’t be spending Christmas with him, but Miller’s offer of allowing Bellamy to spend Christmas with his family instead soothed the wound somewhat. He’d only perked up more when he realised Clarke would also be there.

He glances over at her again now as she shifts in her seat, grabbing the hem of her sweater, not needing it inside now that the fire burning in the fireplace has sufficiently heated the whole room. It’s not like they don’t have central heating, but David claims the fire gives off a more “homely” heat, and Abby just thinks it’s more Christmassy.

Bellamy watches as Clarke pulls her sweater up, the camisole she’s wearing underneath riding up along with it, giving Bellamy a glimpse of her bare stomach, and then, when she still doesn’t notice, the bottoms of her breasts, uncovered by a bra. Bellamy does his best not to move, doesn’t want to alert Miller to the show, though his heart is pounding harder than it was a few seconds ago, and his dick throbs, anticipating the next reveal.

But she notices before she can expose herself any further, and quickly yanks the camisole down before pulling the sweater over her head. She’s flushed when she meets his eye, and then quickly looks away, embarrassed, when she realises he’s been watching her. He swallows. He hasn’t missed the way she blushes every time he so much as looks at her, even when she’s not accidentally flashing him. It’s not a recent thing, but he hasn’t allowed himself to indulge in it until now.

He’s known her since she was ten, since he and Miller were roommates their first year of college, and the whole Griffin-Miller family helped him move in. Clarke had taken to Bellamy almost right away, always chatting to him about her latest interest whenever he visited, taking up more of his attention than Miller ever approved of. It wasn’t until she got a little older that she got shy with him, perhaps finally realising she had a crush on him, or understanding what that meant, though Bellamy had always seen right through her.

It was easy to ignore when she was ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen. She was a cute kid with a crush on a college boy. It was harder to ignore as she got older, sexier, more aware of her crush. At fourteen she had pretty little breasts that slowly developed into the massive tits she has now. Bellamy is sure they’re even bigger now than they were last time he saw her. He can’t stop thinking about putting his mouth on them. He’d tried to tell himself he could wait until she was eighteen to touch her, but she’s only sixteen now, and his resolve is already fading.

“What’s the point in even playing this when you suck so bad?” Miller grunts, startling Bellamy out of his fantasy in which Miller isn’t there at all, and Bellamy helps Clarke take the rest of her clothes off for him. “It’s like you’re not even trying.”

“Sorry, man,” Bellamy says. He feels a little guilty. If Miller knew what he was thinking about his little sister, he’d kill Bellamy. Of course, being gay, and her brother, Miller has no idea of the sex appeal Clarke exudes, despite her young age, and her fairly modest clothing. She always looks so innocent with her big blue eyes, and blonde curls, yet there’s no way she’d be so awkward around Bellamy if her thoughts weren’t full of him, what she wants him to do to her.

Abby walks into the room then, and if there is one person who would beat Bellamy’s ass harder than Miller if he touched Clarke, it’s Abby. Thankfully, none of them have any idea the amount of times he’s jerked off to the thought of her. He’d never be invited for Christmas if they had even an inkling that his intentions towards her were anything less than pure.

“Since you all have nothing better to do than sit around here doing nothing, you can help me decorate for the party tonight,” Abby says.

“We’re not doing nothing,” Miller groans. “Does this look like nothing?”

“It looks exactly like nothing,” Abby says. “Come on, this isn’t optional. I need all hands on deck. The mayor is coming to the party, and I want everything to be perfect.”

Miller grumbles as he tosses his controller away and gets off the couch. Bellamy does not grumble, since it’s not his house, or his mother, and he’s lucky he’s even got somewhere to be this Christmas, let alone a fancy party where the mayor will be in attendance.

Abby has boxes of decorations stacked up by the foot of the stairs, and each of them grab a box. Each one is labelled with the room the decorations inside it are to be hung up in. Bellamy takes the box labelled _foyer_ , and carries it out to the corresponding room. He’s already sure he’s going to do it all wrong—Abby probably has a specific place for every little decoration—but she can’t fault him for trying, and if she hates it enough, she can fix it herself later.

He hears someone put on Christmas music, and he hums along to the faint tune he can hear as he absently hangs tinsel around the front door frame. At one point he fetches a ladder from the main living room, where Miller had been using it, so he can get the decorations a little higher. He’s attaching the last piece of tinsel from his box when Clarke walks into the room, holding sprigs of some kind of plant.

“Mom asked me to give you this,” Clarke says, as Bellamy descends the ladder. He realises the branch she’s holding out to him is mistletoe, and his heart skips a beat, his brain already whirring with ideas of how to spin this in his favour.

“Mistletoe?” he says, reaching the ground and taking it from her.

Clarke nods. “She wants it hanging in the foyer so everybody who walks through the door has to kiss.”

Bellamy looks towards the ceiling, then reaches his arm up, dangling the mistletoe over their heads. “Like, here somewhere?” he asks innocently, looking back down at her, but keeping his arm in the air. The way Clarke’s eyes widen shows she doesn’t miss the meaning of the action, though whether or not she knows he’s done it on purpose is another thing entirely.

“What?” Bellamy says, tilting his head.

“Mistletoe,” Clarke reminds him. She swallows.

“Oh,” Bellamy says, edging closer to her. She doesn’t step back. “Did you think I was going to kiss you?”

She ducks her head, blushing. “No, of course not.”

“Did you _want_ me to kiss you?”

Clarke shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, but she’s lying.

“I mean, it’s the rules of mistletoe,” he reminds her. “And nobody’s watching.”

Clarke’s breath hitches as he slides his free arm around her waist, and she closes her eyes, tilting her head up as he leans in. He keeps his eyes open until the last moment, watching her lips part for him, and he captures them with his own. He brushes his mouth over hers, gently at first, then applying a little more pressure. She doesn’t really kiss him back, but neither does she push him away. It’s over in a few seconds, and Bellamy steps back, dropping both his arms.

Clarke drops her head again, unable to look at him.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy asks her.

“Yes,” she says. She finally meets his eyes. “It’s just—that was my first kiss,” she admits. She’s blushing again.

“Oh?” Bellamy says, feeling a swell of possessive pride. He was her first kiss. Good. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad, actually. I—I have a date with a boy on New Year’s Eve. Now maybe I won’t be so nervous.”

“A date?” Bellamy repeats. Something primal stirs within him, and his stomach clenches. “Your first date ever?”

Clarke nods, screwing up her nose, as if trying to fight off her embarrassment to be talking about this with her older brother’s friend. “His name is Finn.”

Bellamy does his best to keep his expression neutral, though just the thought of Clarke going out with this Finn character makes his blood boil. “Aren’t you a little young to be dating?”

“I’m sixteen,” Clarke points out. “That’s considered old amongst my friends.”

“Right,” Bellamy says. It’s not like he forgot how old she is. And he’s all too aware of just how ready she is. But he doesn’t want her going out with some random guy. Doesn’t want her kissing someone else. Most of all, he doesn’t want someone else fucking her. At least, not until he’s had her for himself. All of her. He has to be her first, has to make her his, has to show her she belongs to him. Needs her to think about him whenever she’s with someone else.

“Besides, didn’t you just kiss me yourself?” Clarke reminds him.

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “A mistletoe kiss hardly counts,” he says. “I was just humouring you. You’re still just a kid to me.”

Clarke nods. Bellamy doesn’t miss the disappointment that flashes across her face. But he’s not ready to lay his cards on the table just yet. He’ll make it up to her later.

-

Bellamy has never been to a fancy party before, though he’s been friends with Miller for years now, and apparently throwing fancy parties is his step-mom’s thing. Miller hates them, his dad tolerates them for Abby, and Bellamy has no idea about Clarke’s feelings on them.

Bellamy is intrigued. He doesn’t get to dress up often, and it’s kind of nice to have an excuse to. It doesn’t take him long to get ready, and he decides he’ll go downstairs and see if Abby or David needs any help with anything.

As he passes Clarke’s room, he hears Abby’s voice coming through the crack in the door, and he pauses, listening.

“I told you, it’s too tight,” Clarke complains. “Can’t I just wear something else?”

“What else have you got, Clarke? If this dress is too tight, then all the others are going to be as well. And I’m not having you wearing jeans to the party. How you’ve put on so much weight in the last month—”

“It’s not my fault my boobs won’t stop growing.”

“There,” Abby says, sounding a little breathless. “I got the zipper up. Just don’t try to take it off.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“It’s only for a few hours,” Abby says. “You can put up with it for that long.”

Clarke mutters something under her breath, and Bellamy hurries away from the door as he hears Abby coming towards it, managing to duck out of sight in the bathroom down the hall before she spots him. Abby heads downstairs, and Bellamy reappears in the hallway as Clarke exits her bedroom.

His eyes rake over her, her hair all done up in a fancy bun, her make-up much heavier than usual, complete with fake eyelashes. Her tits look like they’re ready to burst out of her strapless red dress. He meets her eyes.

“You look pretty,” he tells her.

She flushes. “Thanks.”

He holds out his arm. “Shall we?”

Clarke only hesitates a moment before she takes him arm, and they walk downstairs together. Miller and his dad stand in the main living room by the enormous Christmas tree, each with a glass of whiskey in their hands.

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” the older Miller says, noting Bellamy and Clarke’s linked arms. Clarke quickly pulls her arm away, though both David and Nate clearly view the gesture as perfectly innocent.

“Couldn’t let her walk down the stairs alone in those shoes,” Bellamy jokes.

“Don’t be too nice to her or she’ll get used to it and expect it from everyone,” Miller teases.

“Don’t worry, I’d never expect you to be nice,” Clarke snarks back, poking her tongue out at her brother.

“Would you like a drink, Bellamy?” David asks.

Bellamy nods. “Thanks.”

“Me too?” Clarke asks, hopeful.

“I don’t think so,” David says, grinning. He crosses the room to the bar cart that must have been set up while Bellamy was upstairs. Clarke pouts. Maybe he’ll find a way to sneak her some alcohol later.

Abby reappears as guests start to arrive, and with the decorations, and food and drink being passed around by waiters, and holiday music playing, it does feel very festive. Miller introduces Bellamy to some of his other friends, and he even gets introduced to the mayor at one point.

His earlier idea of trying to sneak Clarke alcohol is proven to be unnecessary, as she seems perfectly capable of doing it herself. He catches her pouring whiskey into her Coke when she thinks no one is looking. She puts the whiskey bottle down and looks up to see him watching her. He raises an eyebrow, amused, and makes his way over to her.

“Don’t tell,” she says. “I’m only having a little bit.”

“I won’t tell,” Bellamy promises. “I’m just surprised. I thought you were a little goody-two-shoes.”

“Everyone always thinks that.”

Bellamy takes a sip of his drink. “Are you having a good time?”

“Not really. I hate these parties. I have to talk to all these boring old people, I’m not allowed to drink, and my dress is too tight.”

His eyes flick to her tits, practically spilling out over the top of her dress. Not the first time he’s snuck a peek, but the first time she appears to have noticed. She tugs at the top of the dress, trying to pull it up higher, but it doesn’t budge.

“It looks great to me,” Bellamy says. Clarke’s already pink cheeks turn a deeper shade of red, matching the scarlet of her dress. His cock jumps. Is it wrong that he gets off on making her squirm? “Take it easy, okay?” he says nodding to the drink in her hand. “Don’t want to give yourself away.”

Clarke pouts. “Yes, _Dad_ ,” she huffs sarcastically.

Bellamy licks his lips. “I think you mean Daddy,” he says. And then he strides away before she can respond, without looking back.

He doesn’t see much of her for the rest of the night, but after a while he begins to realise that she’s right. These people _are_ old and boring, even with the alcohol. They’re all talking about money, but acting like they’re not talking about money. Every second sentence is a brag, and the ones in between are just dull segues to the next thing they can brag about. It’s exhausting.

“Now you see why I’m not a fan of these,” Miller mutters to Bellamy, as the two of them find a reprieve from the constant conversation, standing by the fireplace, though it’s practically boiling in here now, with all the people.

“Yeah,” Bellamy grimaces. “Clarke seems to hate them too. Makes me wonder why your parents force you guys to come.”

“One of the things people like to brag about is their perfect family,” Miller says.

“Right,” Bellamy nods. “Hey—did you know Clarke has a date on New Year’s Eve?” It’s kind of a low move, but perhaps if he can get Miller into protective older brother mode, he can get him to intervene and stop Clarke going on that date with Finn.

“Yeah,” Miller snorts, much to Bellamy’s disappointment. Though the disdain in his friend’s voice gives him some hope.

“You’re okay with it?”

Miller shrugs. “She’s sixteen, she can do what she wants. Even if the guy is a total dickhead, and too old for her to boot.”

“How old is he?”

“Eighteen,” Miller says. “What, he can’t get a girl his own age? Creep.”

“Two years is not a huge difference,” Bellamy points out. As if Bellamy needed any more proof that Miller wouldn’t approve of his thoughts of pursuing Clarke. He thinks a guy two years older than her is too old for her? He’d be livid at a man eight years older than her being interested in her—let alone his best friend.

“Maybe,” Miller half-heartedly agrees. “He acts like he’s fourteen, so it probably cancels out.”

“Where is Clarke anyway?” Bellamy asks, realising he hasn’t seen her in a while. He can’t spot her when he glances around the room either, despite the vibrant colour of her dress.

“Probably hiding in the kitchen or something.”

“I’m gonna go find her.”

“Okay, whatever,” Miller says.

Bellamy leaves him, heading towards the kitchen. He knows Miller is a little confused as to why Bellamy cares where Clarke is, but Miller also doesn’t know that Clarke has been sneaking whiskey into her drinks all night, and for all Bellamy knows could be passed out somewhere, choking on her own vomit.

She’s not in the kitchen. She’s also not passed out in her own vomit, but she looks like she might not be far off it. She’s sitting on the floor, back up against the wall, in an alcove in the hall that leads from the living room where the party is being held to the dining and kitchen area.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy asks her. She looks up at him, looking pathetic. She squeezes her eyes shut, then drops her head.

“Everything is spinning,” she groans.

“You’re drunk,” Bellamy points out, squatting down beside her. He brushes the tendrils of hair from her face, and Clarke leans into his hand.

“I can’t stand up,” she says. “It’s too hot in there, that’s why I came out here. I can’t breathe properly.”

“How much did you drink?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hmm.”

“What did you mean before? When you said _I think you mean Daddy?_.”

“Perhaps we should get you to bed,” Bellamy says, ignoring the question. “I think I can sneak you upstairs.”

“I don’t want to go to bed,” Clarke pouts. “I want to keep drinking.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her. “Is that right?” he says. He pulls her to her feet, with little help from Clarke herself, and then hoists her over his shoulder, a squeak of protest coming from her mouth.

“Bellamy!”

“You’ll thank me later,” Bellamy promises. He keeps one arm around her waist to keep her secured over his shoulder, and rests the other one on her ass to keep her steady.

He half expects her to put up a fight, or tell him to get his hands off her, but she seems resigned to her fate, now that she’s there. He wonders what she’s thinking about his hand on her ass. Does she think he’s unaware of it, or does she know how badly he wants to slip his hand up her dress and caress her ass? Perhaps she hasn’t even noticed he’s got his hand somewhere it shouldn’t be.

He manages to sneak her upstairs without anyone seeing, and take her to her room, where he flips the light on and closes the door behind him. He slides Clarke from his shoulder onto the bed. She groans, tugging at the bodice of her tight dress.

“Here,” Bellamy says. He taps her side, gesturing for her to roll over, while he sits on the edge of the bed beside her. Clarke flips onto her stomach, and Bellamy dutifully pulls her zipper down, revealing her smooth, bare back, right down to the top of her ass. Clarke takes a deep breath, relieved at no longer being restrained by the dress.

“It was hurting you, huh?” Bellamy says. Clarke nods, cheek rubbing against the bed covers. Bellamy slides his hands across her lower back, under the guise of soothing her pain. He can see the uncertainty in her eyes about whether or not she should be letting him do this, letting him touch her under her dress, even if it’s just her back and sides.

She rolls onto her back again, casually letting him know he’s gone too far, and Bellamy pulls his hands away, disappointed. Perhaps she’s not as drunk as he thought she was. But she doesn’t tell him to go, and she doesn’t seem mad at him, only a little embarrassed, which is nothing out of the ordinary.

“I shouldn’t have had so much to drink,” Clarke whispers.

“You’ll probably be pretty hungover in the morning,” Bellamy agrees.

Clarke sits up, and with the motion the top of her dress falls from her chest, causing Bellamy’s heart to lodge in his throat as her tits are revealed to him. She doesn’t realise at first, and Bellamy stares, taking a mental picture of her huge breasts, her pretty pink nipples pointed towards him. His erection throbs. He wants to grab her tits and push his cock between them, then come all over her face.

Clarke notices his line of sight, and looks down. “Oh my god,” she breathes, panicked. She goes to throw her arms across her chest to cover herself, but Bellamy grabs her by the wrists, stopping her. Her eyes widen, alarmed and confused, as he keeps her from covering her exposed tits.

“Bellamy, please,” she whimpers, clearly humiliated by the turn of events.

“You don’t have to hide yourself from me,” he tells her.

“I don’t want you to see,” she says, pleading with him. She looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Yet she’s not trying to fight him. It’s not like he’s holding her wrists _hard_. “Please, don’t look at them.”

He lets her wrists go, but only so he can cover her tits with his hands. “Better?” he asks sweetly. Clarke squirms, her face a brilliant red as she sits there with her tits in his big hands, her nipples hard against his palms. He can tell she doesn’t know what to do, how to react. She accidentally exposed herself to her brother’s best friend, the man she has a crush on, and now he’s fondling her breasts.

They feel amazing in his hands. Soft and full and heavy. Nipples practically desperate to be sucked on. He gives a squeeze and Clarke gasps. He can tell she’s of two minds. Can tell she likes it, wants him to play with her tits like they’re his personal toys, but knows it’s wrong, that he’s too old for her, that her parents and her brother wouldn’t approve, that letting a man who isn’t her boyfriend see her tits, touch them, might make her a slut.

“Nobody’s ever touched you like this before, have they?”

Clarke shakes her head. “Bellamy, this is wrong,” she whispers. Still, she allows him to keep touching her, doesn’t try to shove him away or move out of his reach, though she’s perfectly capable of doing so.

He puts her out of her misery, taking his hands away and letting her pull the top of her dress back up. She clutches it against her chest tightly, unable to look at him.

“I’ll let you get ready for bed,” Bellamy says. Clarke nods. “I’ll check back in on you in a little while.”

“Okay,” Clarke whispers.

He leaves her room, but he doesn’t go back downstairs. He’s had enough of the party, so instead he heads to his own room, and takes off his shoes and jacket and tie. His heart is still pounding and his dick still aching from finally getting to touch Clarke’s tits. He wants to jerk off, but he decides to wait until later, when he’s ready for bed.

He gives Clarke some time to herself before he goes to check on her, enough so she can get into her pyjamas and brush her teeth and get back into bed. The light is still on when he pads back down the hall, and he knocks on the door softly.

“Clarke?” he calls. No response. He knocks harder. Still nothing. He opens the door and ducks inside. She’s lying on the bed, still in her dress. Asleep. Her hand is up under her dress, between her legs. Bellamy’s stomach clenches when he realises she must have tried to masturbate after he left, but fallen asleep in the meantime. He knows then what he has to buy her for Christmas.

He considers leaving her like that for about half a second. But it can’t be comfortable to sleep in that dress, and he’s already seen and touched her tits once tonight already, so what does it matter if he takes her dress off and puts her into her pyjamas?

She doesn’t wake as he pulls her dress down, revealing her tits again, then further down, over her hips, until he can see her hand inside her panties. He tosses the dress to the floor, then takes a moment to drink her in, looking like a half-naked sleeping beauty. He takes her wrist and pulls her hand away from her cunt, noticing her juices glistening on her fingers. There’s a damp patch on her panties too, and he can’t resist reaching out and pressing his thumb against it, his heart pounding.

Fuck, he wants to taste her. Wants to drag her panties down and look at her cunt, push his tongue inside her, and then his cock. It would be so easy. But no—he wants her to be awake when he takes her virginity. Wants her to beg him for it. Still, he strokes her pussy now, watching her face for any sign of a reaction. Her legs part, and a soft whimper escapes her mouth, and that’s enough for him. She wants him. Wants to be fucked like she’s his personal whore, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

He finds her pyjamas at the top of her laundry basket and dresses her. He feels a little guilty for touching her without her permission. For looking at her half-naked body even though she explicitly asked him not to. She probably won’t remember any of it in the morning anyway.

-

Bellamy still has to buy Miller a gift too, and probably David and Abby, since he’s staying with them for Christmas and they haven’t once complained about it, according to Miller.

He’s left it a little late, it being the day before Christmas Eve, but that’s time enough to buy some wine and chocolates for David and Abby, and a video game for Miller. And for Clarke, something a little more—personal.

She doesn’t say anything to him about the events of the night before, but he thinks she remembers something, because she’s even more awkward around him than usual, and won’t meet his eye even for a moment.

While David and Abby are at their respective places of work—the police station and the hospital—and Miller is having an afternoon nap, Bellamy finds Clarke in her room. She’s lying on her stomach on her bed, drawing something in a notepad. The door is open, so Bellamy knocks on the doorframe, and Clarke looks over at him, before quickly averting her eyes to the floor.

“Hey,” he says. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says. She continues to scribble on her notepad.

“Really? Because you seem like you’re avoiding me.”

Clarke puts her pencil down. “It’s just—” she starts. “Last night.”

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy says quickly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I took it too far. I didn’t listen to you.”

“It’s okay,” Clarke says.

Bellamy walks over to the bed and sits down. “You’re not mad at me? Scared of me?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I could’ve stopped you,” she whispers. “Don’t you think I’m slutty for letting you touch me like that?”

“No, sweetheart,” he says. “How could I when I was the one with my hands on you? Couldn’t stop staring at your pretty nipples.”

Clarke cringes. “Stop it. It’s embarrassing.”

“What is?”

“That you saw me naked.”

He almost laughs, but he manages to keep himself in check. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he tells her. “You’re beautiful.”

She blushes. “Don’t be stupid,” she mutters.

“I’m just being honest,” he says. “Your tits are fucking perfect. I’d do anything to get my hands on them again.”

She finally looks at him with piercing blue eyes. “I thought you thought of me as just a kid,” she reminds him.

He smiles ruefully. “I think we both know that was a lie.” He reaches out, traces the back of his finger against her shoulder. “I only said what I’m supposed to say. I’m way too old for you. Miller would kill me if he found out I touched you. But I want you anyway. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone.”

Clarke swallows. “I want you too,” she admits. Bellamy tries not to let his excitement show. Of course, he already knew it. But to hear her admit it is another thing entirely.

In one swift move, he flips her over and pins her to the bed so he’s on top of her, knees straddling her hips. Before she can catch her breath, he kisses her, properly this time. His tongue delves into her mouth, and she’s a little resistant and first, but it doesn’t take her long to melt against him, let him devour her, then finally start kissing him back. He gives a soft moan when he feels her tongue move against his.

One of his hands rests on her ribcage, and he slowly slides it up until he’s cupping her breast, rubbing his thumb in small circles over her sweater. She arches against him, and Bellamy kisses her harder, encouraged by her reaction. He moves his hand away, but only so he can sneak it under her sweater, fingertips light against the soft skin of her belly. She tenses up, stops kissing him back, and Bellamy pulls away.

“What’s wrong?” he asks gently.

“Someone might walk in,” she says, looking towards the open door.

“Your parents are at work, and Miller is dead to the world. But I can close the door if you like?” Bellamy offers. She still seems hesitant, biting her lip. “It’s something else, isn’t it?”

She nods. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” she whispers.

“Okay,” Bellamy says. He sits up on his knees. “We can stop.”

Clarke breathes a sigh of relief, sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bellamy says. “It’s natural to be nervous about your first time. But you’re ready, trust me. Your body is practically begging me to touch you. You need a man’s cock inside you.”

Clarke looks away shyly, her face burning.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone how much you want it,” Bellamy says. “It’ll be our little secret. Don’t want anyone else to know what a little slut you are, do we?”

“I’m not a slut,” Clarke says.

“Not yet, anyway. But once I take your virginity. Once you’ve had a taste of my cock. You won’t be able to get enough.”

-

He considers taking Clarke with him to go Christmas shopping, but then he decides he’d rather her present be a surprise, and he ends up going alone. He fights off the other shoppers buying last minute gifts, and manages to buy the things he needs. He wraps up the gifts for David, Abby and Nate, and a scented candle he bought for Clarke. After all, it’s not like he can give her her _real_ present in front of everyone.

He waits until everyone has gone to bed that night, though he’s too impatient to wait until he’s sure they’re all asleep. The lamp in Clarke’s room is still on, so he knocks on her door, wrapped gift in hand.

“Yeah?” Clarke calls. Bellamy opens the door. She’s in bed, in her pyjamas, hair braided over one shoulder, book in her hands. He holds the present up to show her.

“I have something for you,” he says.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Clarke says.

“No,” Bellamy agrees. “It’s not exactly something I can give you in front of your parents.”

Clarke bites her lip, but she doesn’t tell him to get out, so he takes that as his cue to shut the door and go over to her. He sits beside her on the edge of the bed and hands her the gift. She opens it with shaky hands, being careful not to rip the paper.

He studies her expression as she reveals the vibrator, and a little bottle of lube too. Her eyes widen, just a little, her lips part.

“You didn’t already have one, did you?” Bellamy asks. Clarke shakes her head. “I put batteries in it for you already.”

“Thanks,” Clarke says hoarsely. “But I don’t need it. I don’t do that.”

Bellamy holds back a laugh. He already knows she’s lying. “If you say so,” he says. “Keep it anyway. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

“Okay.” She looks up at him, and he darts in to give her a quick kiss, taking her by surprise.

“Goodnight, Clarke.”

-

The next day, Bellamy is desperate to ask her whether she used it. Even if she lies, he thinks he’ll be able to tell whether or not she did. But he doesn’t get a moment alone with her, seeing as Miller seems to be attached to him all day, starting at a late breakfast, then dragging him to the gym, and it’s not until after lunch, when Miller puts on Home Alone, that Bellamy even sees Clarke. She dithers for a moment, and Bellamy can see her trying to decide where to sit—next to him on the couch, or away from him on an armchair. Bellamy tries not to seem too pleased when she settles into the corner of the couch beside him. He throws his arm over the back of the couch, not touching her, but just letting her know he’s there. He can feel her awareness of him in the rigid way she sits.

Miller falls asleep halfway through the movie. He’s not subtle about it either, the sounds coming out of his mouth sounding like a lawnmower.

Bellamy turns to Clarke. “Did you get a chance to use your present last night?” he whispers. Clarke shakes her head quickly, cheeks turning pink. Bellamy tilts his head knowingly. “Come on, you can tell me,” he says.

“I—” Clarke starts. She bites her lip nervously. “I tried to use it,” she admits. “But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve just got to play around with it a bit until you find what you like,” Bellamy says.

“I don’t know,” Clarke says uncertainly. “I think it’s too big to go inside me.” She looks like she regrets her words as soon as they’re out of her mouth. Perhaps it’s Bellamy’s amused expression. He’d only bought her a little one, after all. If he has his way, she’ll be taking something much bigger inside of her by the time his winter break is over.

“Why don’t you go and get it, and I’ll help you,” he suggests. He doesn’t really expect her to even consider it, but he can see in her eyes that she is. She glances over at her sleeping brother, beside Bellamy on the couch.

“Here?” she asks. Bellamy nods. “What if he wakes up?”

“We both know he’s not going to wake up for a while.”

She hesitates a little longer, but then she jumps up, and runs upstairs, returning a few minutes later with the gift he’d given her last night. Adrenalin hums through his veins, his cock standing at attention. Clarke sits back down next to him and hands him the vibrator and the lube.

“So what do I do?” she asks.

“Well, first you’re going to need to take of those tights, and your panties,” Bellamy points out.

“Oh,” Clarke says. “Do I have to?”

“How else am I going to show you how to use it?”

“I don’t know, I thought—” she pauses, looking down at her hands. “I thought you would just talk me through it or something.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, drawing out her name. “I know you’re not that naïve. Now take off your panties like a good girl. You can keep your skirt on if you like.”

Clarke’s internal struggle is written all over her face. She wants it, but she’s too scared to admit she wants it. Her desire wins out. She slips her hands up under her skirt and wriggles out of her tights and panties, until they’re bunched at her knees. She keeps her cunt covered by her tight little skirt.

Bellamy hands the vibrator back to her, the lube with it. “Get a nice thick coat on there,” he tells her. “The more you use, the easier it will be.”

He watches her squeeze the lube onto the vibrator and spread it around with her fingers. When she’s done, he grabs her wrist and guides her hand between her legs. She shifts forward a little, angling her hips towards the vibrator as it disappears under her skirt. She stops as the tip of the vibrator presses against her entrance, tensing up.

“Just relax,” he whispers. Which is easier said than done, he realises. What with Miller sleeping right next to them, the possibility of her parents getting home at any moment, and her trying to take a vibrator inside her cunt for the first time, with him watching her, hand under her skirt. “Look at me,” he says, and Clarke turns her head towards him, eyes wide and uncertain.

He captures her lips with his, and she responds instantly this time, kissing him back like she’s been practicing it in her mind for exactly this moment. As he deepens the kiss, he pushes against the vibrator, feeling it slide inside her. She spreads her legs wider, making it easier, still kissing him. She removes her own hand, letting him take the lead. He feels some kind of triumph at the knowledge that he was right—she wants it bad. Sweet little innocent Clarke is as horny for him as he is for her—she’s just terrified of her own desire.

She breaks the kiss as the vibrator reaches its hilt, giving a soft whine, dropping her head as his fingers brush against her pussy lips.

“There,” he murmurs. “Not too big for you at all. Now, just—” he stops, finding the on button on the bottom of the vibrator, and flicking it on. Clarke jumps. “How does that feel?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke whispers. Bellamy clicks it up to the next setting.

“Come on, baby,” Bellamy coos. “Tell Daddy how it makes your pussy feel. Use your words.”

“It feels good,” Clarke says. She squirms. Bellamy turns it up again. Clarke moans, clenching her thighs together, squashing Bellamy’s hand between them. For such a little vibrator, it’s pretty powerful.

“You can do better than that,” Bellamy says. “What do you need?”

Clarke rocks her hips against it, squeezing her eyes shut. “More, please.”

“More, please what?”

“More, please—Daddy,” she manages, blushing.

Bellamy smiles approvingly. “Good girl.”

Clarke spreads her legs again so he can turn it up to the next setting. Her fists grip the edge of the couch, she arches her back, her head lolling back against the couch. Bellamy holds the vibrator in place, watching her. She looks gorgeous like this, flushed and horny, desperately chasing her release. High-pitched sounds leave her mouth as she spirals towards orgasm.

Bellamy feels Miller shift next to him, the snoring stopping abruptly. Bellamy quickly switches off the vibrator, suddenly realising he’s being too careless. He glances back at his friend, who thankfully appears to still be asleep. Still, it’s too close. If he gets caught now, he won’t get a chance to fuck Clarke. He’ll be out on his ass in a minute.

Clarke seems to notice the near miss, and she opens her eyes, sitting up, panicked. “Is he--?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “No. But I think we better stop. You know how to use it now anyway. Make sure you clean it properly before you put it away.”

He pulls the vibrator from her cunt and hands it to her, covered in her arousal. Clarke blushes as she takes it from him, then hastily pulls up her panties and tights, like she’s just realising what she’s done. She flees upstairs, just as Miller wakes up for real. The credits are rolling on screen.

“Aw man, did I miss it?” Miller groans.

“You missed it,” Bellamy affirms.

-

It’s dark when David gets home, bringing KFC with him, and he suggests the four of them go for a drive to look at Christmas lights after dinner. Abby is still at work and won’t be home until later.

To Bellamy’s delight, Miller calls shotgun, leaving him in the back with Clarke. Even though Bellamy is pretty sure Miller doesn’t even care about Christmas lights, he just has to do that older sibling thing and let Clarke know he’s the boss.

Bellamy sits by the window, and Clarke slides in next to him, sitting in the middle seat, though she’d arguably be able to see the lights better from the other window. But Bellamy likes her being pressed up against him, under the blanket she’s brought, since her step-dad and step-brother don’t feel the cold like she does.

With the blanket, and the close proximity, and the darkness of the backseat, plus David and Nate being distracted by pointing out Christmas lights, it would be the perfect opportunity for Bellamy to have some fun, play with Clarke’s cunt under the blanket, like she clearly wants him to. But since he knows that’s what she wants, and knows she’ll never ask him for it, he refrains. The next time he touches her, she’s going to be begging for it.

David drives to a court where every single house has a magnificent display of lights, and people have parked their cars all the way along the adjoining street, so they can get out and walk around the court. David finds a spot as close as he can, and the four of them get out of the car, shrugging coats on as they go.

Most other people there are families with young kids, although there are a few elderly couples, and some twenty-somethings who obviously still have some Christmas spirit left in them. Miller and David stride ahead, while Bellamy dawdles behind, Clarke keeping close to his side as they walk, stopping occasionally to better appreciate the elaborate displays. It’s oddly romantic, actually, and Bellamy has the ridiculous urge to reach out and hold her hand. Not that he can act on it. There’s no mistaking that kind of gesture, and he doesn’t want either Clarke or Miller or David to get any ideas.

They return home, and Miller immediately heads to bed, though it’s barely ten. David also heads to his room to watch TV, saying he has to catch up on the golf highlights. Abby must have arrived home sometime while they were out, since her car is there, but she appears to have headed straight to bed.

Bellamy heads to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, then figuring he may as well just go to bed himself as well, and maybe read for a while. He puts his empty glass down by the sink and turns around to see Clarke sitting at the counter.

“Hey there,” he says.

“Are you going to bed?” she asks.

Bellamy shrugs. “Got nothing better to do.”

“We could watch a movie.”

Bellamy pretends to consider it before he answers. “Okay, sure,” he agrees.

The fire is burned to embers now, and Bellamy stokes it up, while Clarke flicks through the Christmas movies on Netflix, though Bellamy is pretty sure they’re all the same. She finally picks one, and Bellamy joins her on the couch, and she tucks herself into his side. She’s getting bolder. He can smell the coconut scent of her shampoo.

He doesn’t really follow the plot of the movie, but it seems like it’s the stock-standard, uptight city girl falls for cynical country man and the magic of Christmas brings them together. The dialogue is truly cringeworthy. Even Clarke doesn’t seem that interested by it, seeing as how she pauses it before it’s even halfway through.

“Tired?” Bellamy asks her.

Clarke shakes her head. “Just don’t like the movie,” she says. “Maybe we can do something else.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

Clarke chews her lip. “You never got to finish showing me how to use the present you gave me,” she says.

“I think you’ve got the hang of it by now.”

Clarke pouts. It’s cute. She shifts even closer to him, so she’s practically sitting in his lap. “I thought you said you wanted me.” Her words come out so low and husky it makes his cock jump to full attention.

“I thought _you_ said you weren’t ready,” Bellamy reminds her.

“That never stopped you before.”

“If you want something, Clarke, you better ask me for it.”

“What if I don’t know what I want?”

“You know,” Bellamy whispers, leaning in, his lips millimetres from hers. He strokes her stomach through her sweater with the backs of his fingers. “You want my cock, don’t you? Want it so bad it aches.” Clarke nods, and with the motion her lips brush gently against his. “Say it.”

“I want it,” Clarke breathes.

“Want what, baby?” Bellamy says. He presses his lips against her ear. “I wanna hear something filthy come from that pretty little mouth of yours.”

“I want your cock,” Clarke whispers. He can hear the shame in her voice. Fuck, it sounds better coming off her lips than he even imagined.

“Where do you want it?”

She swallows. “I want it—inside me.”

“Where?” Bellamy presses.

Clarke squirms. “In my—pussy.”

“Show me. Show me where you want it.”

She’s shaking as she wriggles out of her skirt, her breathing uneven. She takes her skirt all the way off, then drags her tights down her legs, so she’s just in her sweater and panties. She seems hesitant to take the panties off, so Bellamy grants her some mercy and grabs the bottom of her sweater and pulls that over her head instead. Except she’s not wearing a bra, and Bellamy wonders if maybe she never does.

He stares too long, though he’s seen them before. But fuck, if they aren’t the best tits he’s seen in his life. She crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously, and he flicks his gaze back up to her face disapprovingly until she moves her arms away shyly. He reaches out with both hands, taking a breast in each, bouncing them slightly, feeling the weight of them in his palms. He strokes her pointed nipples with the pads of his thumbs.

“Okay,” he says. “Panties off. Time to show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

Clarke flushes, as if she isn’t already mostly naked in front of him, her tits being manhandled by him. He keeps his hands on her as she hooks her thumbs into the sides of her panties, then edges them down, lifting herself off the couch for a moment so she can get them over her ass. Bellamy pulls his hands away so he can look properly as she finally reveals her slit to him, perfectly hairless, shaved just for him, no doubt.

Clarke drops her panties to her ankles then lifts her feet so her underwear drops to the floor, and she’s truly naked. Bellamy can feel her discomfort, sitting there naked in her living room, with her parents and brother just upstairs, and Bellamy fully clothed, staring at her, drinking her in.

“Daddy,” she whispers urgently. “Please.”

“I thought I told you to show me where you want my cock?”

She spreads her legs slowly, showing him her cunt, pink and dripping wet. “Here,” she says.

“Stand up. Let me look at you.”

Clarke looks pained as she stands, obeying him reluctantly. Part of him revels in the fact that she’s doing what he asks, even though she’s clearly embarrassed about it.

“Gorgeous,” Bellamy says. Clarke gets even shyer. “Get on your knees,” he commands, standing up. Clarke sinks to her knees, looking up at him. “Perfect.” He smiles encouragingly. “Look so good on your knees. Naked. Like the little slut you are.”

She doesn’t refute his claim this time. He’s sure she thinks she is a slut. If she wasn’t, would she really be totally naked in her own living room, on her knees, doing whatever he wants her to because she’s so desperate to be fucked?

“Now beg me. And make it good.”

“Please,” Clarke croaks out. “Fuck me. Take my virginity. I need your big cock in my virgin cunt, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” he growls. Better than he expected. He loves hearing those dirty things roll off her tongue, knowing how unnatural it is for her to say them, how much shame she feels at saying it out loud.

He drops to his knees on the rug beneath him, face to face with Clarke, the fire burning next to them. He kisses her roughly, pushing her back until she’s lying underneath him. His fingers probe at her entrance, and she gasps into his mouth as he fills her with his thick fingers without warning. She’s so wet already that they slide in easily.

“Yes,” she moans. “Finger me, Daddy.” He pumps his fingers inside her, watching her thrust against his hand, desperate for it, her earlier embarrassment all but forgotten in her haze of desire. He fingers her to the brink of orgasm, then stops, not wanting her to come until his cock is inside her.

He fumbles with his fly, his own desperation getting to him now. He’s been so composed up until this moment, but now his cock is throbbing so badly he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t get to be inside her right this second. He finally gets his pants undone, pulling them down with his underwear, just enough to get his cock out. He positions himself between her knees, trying not to let _her_ know how eager he is. He’s the one in control.

“Oh my god,” Clarke whimpers. “Your cock.” She’s looking down at him, her expression a mix between awe and horror. “It’s too big, I can’t—” she shakes her head.

“It’s not too big,” he assures her. There’s no way he’s not fucking her tonight. He’ll lose his mind if he doesn’t get her tonight. “You can take it. It’s what your cunt was made for, taking big cock like this. You’ll take every inch of it and you’ll enjoy it.”

“I don’t know.”

“Trust me, baby. I know you want it. Don’t you feel so empty without it?” He can hear his own voice cracking with the strain of holding himself back. Clarke nods. That’s good enough for him. He rubs the head of his cock against her slit, knowing this is the first time she’s ever touched a cock, maybe the first time she’s ever even seen one in real life. He coats himself in her arousal, watching her as the length of his cock slides between her folds.

Her mouth falls open as he pushes the head inside her. He feels her walls clenching around him, her tight cunt squeezing him for all he’s worth as he sinks deeper and deeper into her. She whines a little, squirms and writhes, but she doesn’t complain, or tell him to stop, and then he’s all the way inside her, splitting her tiny little body in half with his massive cock, and she’s taking it all so well, just like he knew she would.

“You feel so good, baby,” Bellamy tells her. “So tight for me. How does it feel, sweetheart?”

“It’s so big,” Clarke says. “I feel so full up. Feels so good, Daddy.”

“See? You were made to take Daddy’s cock. So glad I get to be the first to have you.” 

“Please, Daddy,” Clarke whines. “Fuck me please.” He rolls his hips against her, hitting her g-spot, and she moans loudly. “Yes,” she breathes. “Harder, please, harder.”

He thrusts into her, picking up the pace slowly, until he’s pounding into her willing cunt, listening to her mewl and whine beneath him, taking his cock with all the enthusiasm of someone much more experienced. She starts to moan in time with his thrusts, high-pitched and breathy, and then her walls are clenching around him, a rush of liquid flooding over his cock as she comes, crying out, loudly and sweetly.

“Good girl,” Bellamy pants. “Coming on my cock like a good little slut. Daddy’s little slut. My turn, baby. Gonna give your pussy its first taste of come.”

“Wait,” Clarke says, panicked. “We didn’t use a condom. You can’t come in me.”

“I gotta, baby. Gotta fill you up.”

“Please, Daddy. I’m not on the pill. I’ll get pregnant. Please don’t come in me.”

“Fuck, Clarke,” he groans. Her begging him not to come in her only makes him want to do it more. The thought of getting her pregnant is simultaneously alluring and disastrous. “I wanna get you pregnant so bad. Fill you up with my come, with my baby. No hiding what we did from anyone. Everyone knowing I fucked you, I took your virginity, I came inside you.”

“Please,” Clarke says, sounding like she’s on the verge of tears. “Don’t come in me. I don’t want to get pregnant.”

“Sorry, baby,” Bellamy huffs. “We both need this. Your slutty pussy needs Daddy’s come in it, and I need to make sure I’m the first one to come inside you. Need to claim you with my come.” Clarke moans at his words, confirming what he knows to be true. “Tell me, sweetheart, tell me how much you need Daddy’s come.”

“Yes,” Clarke breathes. “I need it, Daddy.”

He reaches his peak then, and he groans as he empties his balls into her, thick spurts of it filling her up just like he promised. And then she’s coming again, and a tear rolls down her cheek, but whether it’s from shame or pleasure he doesn’t know. He pulls his cock out of her, just so he can watch his come leak from her cunt.

“You better hold it in,” he warns. “Or you’ll get it on the carpet. How would we explain that?” Clarke covers her mound with her hand, the come that drips out of her leaking onto her fingers. She crosses her other arm against her chest, trying to cover her nakedness, as though he hadn’t just fucked the life out of her.

“Don’t worry about getting pregnant,” Bellamy says. “I’ll go and get you the morning after pill. If there’s nothing open tomorrow, then the next day.”

“Okay,” Clarke says.

“I’m sorry. I just had to come in you. And it feels good, doesn’t it?”

Clarke nods. “I feel bad for liking it,” she admits. “For liking the thought of you getting me pregnant, even though I knew I didn’t want it. I really am a slut, aren’t I?”

Bellamy chuckles. “Let’s just say I think Santa will be bringing you coal for Christmas this year, naughty girl. I don’t think girls on the nice list beg their older brother’s friend to take their virginity on the living room floor.”

“Santa could have come down the chimney and caught us at any moment,” Clarke jokes, giggling.

“He won’t come at all if we don’t get you to bed,” Bellamy says. “Want me to carry you?”

Clarke nods, and Bellamy helps her put her clothes back on before he lifts her into his arms and carries her upstairs, bridal style. He drops her into bed, and her eyes are already drooping. He gives her a kiss on the top of her head.

“Merry Christmas, Clarke,” he murmurs.


End file.
